


Where yesteryears are buried

by LokiAllonsy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, And so does Loki, Blackfrost - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Genderfluid Loki, Natasha Needs a Hug, New Asgard, Post-Endgame, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, old steve, post endgame but everyone lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:08:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29537304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiAllonsy/pseuds/LokiAllonsy
Summary: For five years, Natasha tried to keep the Avengers alive. For five years, she tried to finish what they had started.Now, the war was over.And where before, she had thrown herself into work to forget, now there was nothing anymore that could hide the void in her life.Natasha Romanoff was lonely, and her heart was aching.Trying to form a new team and find a murderer who is on the loose in New Asgard, she also has to keep an eye on Loki, the genderfluid god of mischief...Soulmate AU.
Relationships: Loki & Natasha Romanov, Loki/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 7
Kudos: 31





	1. Beginning

For five years, Natasha tried to keep the Avengers alive. For five years, she tried to finish what they had started.

Now, the war was over.

And where before, she had thrown herself into work to forget, now there was nothing anymore that could hide the void in her life.

Natasha Romanoff was lonely, and her heart was aching.

Of course she knew that she had lost her family the moment things turned sour because of the Accords. But deep down, it still felt like her family had slipped through her hands like sand in the days after the victory. Deep down, there had been a sense that they would all get back together once everything was over; that things would return to how they were before, in those first few years after the New York invasion.

It was probably because of Steve.

Clint, her oldest friend, had disappeared right after their loss against Thanos, and she had not seen him again before she found him in Tokyo, murdering whoever was in his way. Then came the mission, the cliff on Vormir and her fall, air rushing past her and the terrible second when she met the ground -

She banished the thought from her mind. No use shivering at memories.

Now, Clint was on his farm with his family, and Natasha was happy for him, she really was. She did not want him to go back to the life of an agent, where you did not see your family for months, and could never be sure whether you would see them again at all. She certainly did not want him to go back to the life of a merciless serial killer. But she still missed him sometimes, despite everything.

Tony had a family as well; his soulmate, Pepper, and their little daughter, Morgan. A child that came after her father, Natasha thought, inwardly smiling. Stark seemed happy with them, happy to be settled down.

Bruce, on the other hand, never seemed to stop running. They had almost had something together - a hopeful shimmer at the end of the tunnel - but then Bruce had disappeared (to space, as she now knew) and when she thought about their almost-relationship now, it seemed to consist solely of a lot of hopes on her part, and uncertainty on his.

But Steve... He had been there for her, during those five years. Her closest, perhaps only, friend. And now he had left her, and the old man who had returned was different. She felt strange talking to him. He was not the Steve she knew - he was the Steve that had lived a life with his soulmate and had only now caught up with reality.

His soulmate. Natasha brushed across the letters on her abdomen, as she often did these days. They were subtle, easy to miss. Having a soulmate was a weakness for an agent - it gave others the power to manipulate you. But luckily, Natasha had always managed to hide the small, golden letters.

The first truly kind words her soulmate would speak to her. In the Red Room, they had forcibly kept her from reading them - they did not want their agents to be compromised, either by their soulmate or by someone pretending to be them. They put a plaster on the small patch of skin, glued in place with a substance almost impossible to remove without the necessary chemicals. Natasha had managed it anyway, after she left the Red Room. Although the Red Room's ideas were even harder to remove. For a long time, she had scoffed at the idea of a soulmate. She was the Black Widow. She did not need anyone. But deep inside, there had been this longing...

In the years after the Red Room, her fingers had brushed over the words more and more often, listening for them in every conversation (of which there had been few). She had listened for them with Clint, too, and later with Steve and Bruce, but it had quickly become apparent that they had already said truly kind words to her, but that those on her skin remained unspoken.

She had longed for it more and more recently. She wanted someone to hold. Someone to kiss. Someone who would live with her in that tiny house by the sea that she sometimes thought of. She wanted to feel warmth again.

T'Challas voice tore her out of her thoughts.

The war might have been over, but there was still a lot to do. Many of the Avengers - and Guardians and Wakandans, Natasha mentally added, and all the others who had come to help - had gone back already. Natasha did not blame them. After nearly - or actually - losing their lives and those of their loved ones, many just wanted to rest. Tony was one of them. Although he had left them a tremendous amount of money, he did not want any part in what was done with it, and had very clearly said so. By now, he, Pepper and Morgan already had to be back at their house.

A smaller number of people, however, had stayed; some by choice, others not.

Much had been lost during the fight, and for some, there was nowhere to return. As she had to admit, that number included herself. She had lived at the Avengers facility before it was destroyed, but now she only had a safe house somewhere in the wilderness, which she did not want to compromise.

After the battle, they had all desperately needed a place to stay, and with the places they would have usually turned to destroyed, Thor and Valkyrie had invited them to live in New Asgard.

So here they were.

Natasha let her eyes wander over the congregation. They would have to make plans on how to go from here. And, maybe, form a new team.

The thought made her feel sad, although there was no reason why it should. A team was better than no team. And while things would never be the same, she hoped they could at least improve a little.

At least she had a bit of help now. Rhodes was there, and so was Old Steve, as she called him in her head. T'Challa had helped a lot too, in the past days, but was planning to return to Wakanda within the next week. They made a good team - calm, organised, balanced out. Not at all like the Avengers had been, but for this task, it was ideal. They met up, pointed out problems, discussed solutions, and parted ways. None of the chaos of Avengers tower. They were not the kind of people to accidentally built a deadly robot, or start a civil war among themselves.

They also weren't the kind of people to eat shawarma together afterwards.

But after all, that was not necessary, Natasha told herself. They would find a way to do this. She looked at the faces in the crowd, grim and tired. It was moments like these were she wished her Cap was still here - one motivational speech, and he could have brought hope into those people's eyes, given them a sense of purpose. But as things were, she had to give them that sense of purpose her way, and her way involved a clear plan that would leave no room for despair.

Now they only had to make that plan.

The sun was setting already when she left the meeting hall. It was one of New Asgard's larger buildings, and after Rhodes and her had told the others the current status of their efforts, they had spent the rest of the day discussing T'Challas plans for Wakanda. They would pay for the damages done to the city (or rather, the damage - the city looked like a giant hole had been punched into it) and if Wakanda requested, they would receive additional workers to help fix things. The technologically-advanced nation was crucial for Earth's safety, and thus both SHIELD and the Council had an interest in keeping it both intact and on their side.

Natasha looked around. Many small houses out of stone, some out of wood, scattered across the small hills. The Aesir generally seemed to be outdoorsy people, and even now they were still a few children running around and people sitting on their porches and chatting. You could have taken a picture and printed it in a book about peaceful Scandinavian country life.

Unfortunately, Natasha did not feel peaceful. She knew better than to let go off her guard even in a setting like this. But her steps still slowed as she made her way up one of the grassy hills.

Thor had given her a small house for herself at the other side of the town, far from the meeting hall, which meant that on her way there, she passed by Thor's house. It was one of the bigger ones and made out of wood painted white. But what worried her was what was inside it. Or rather, who.

She had been an advocate for the Asgardians being allowed to settle here, but at that point, Loki had still been dead. Now, him and the other Asgardians that had been killed by Thanos on their spaceship had come back through the snap. Another reason why the streets were so full - new houses were still being built, so they had moved in with other families.

In Thor and Loki's case, however, the situation did not seem to be temporary. Or at least, Natasha had not been able to find records of a house commissioned by either of them.

She had planned to observe the genderfluid god in the days after the snap, but a million other things had demanded her attention as well. This, she realised, must have been the first evening in... months, maybe, that she did not urgently need to work. These past few days, she had spent almost exclusively on her feet, finding people who wanted - or had to - stay, working through the legal jungle of Norwegian residence permits, finding people a place to live. At the end of it, she had thought that she must have met nearly everyone in this small town. Nearly everyone, except for Loki.

Seems like someone's been avoiding me, Natasha thought to herself.

The sun had set by now, and it had gotten colder. She had already walked past Thor's house, but now she could see the light being turned on in one of the windows on the ground floor.

Natasha did a quick assessment of her situation. She was wearing jeans and trainers, so moving silently and quickly would be no problem. (It was never a problem, even in heels and an evening dress, but comfortable clothes did make things easier.) Her Glock was at home, but she did have some pepper spray. She was not sure whether it would have any effect on an Asgardian, but she also did not think that she would actually need it.

She turned around and quietly walked along the side of the cliffs towards the house, which was nestled into the hillside. Several people seemed to be in the illuminated room. Two, judging from the movement that she could see. Both of them in the same place. Good. If Loki had any suspicious plans, it was unlikely that he was going to give any indication of that in front of his brother; but the way they interacted would tell her a lot.

With a few more steps, she was within three metres of the house.

Loki. She could see him now. He stood at the wall opposite to the window, his back turned to her. Her stomach dropped at the sight of him, and she felt uneasy, waiting for him to turn around. The room was a kitchen, she could see that now. Loki seemed to be standing at the stove, stirring something. Cooking? It seemed unlikely.

She could finally see his face now, as he turned. It hit her like a memory from a different time. The invasion, SHIELD, Avengers tower. It all seemed like years ago, and it was, but seeing him here, like a relict from times past, made her feel just for how long those times had been over. Still the high cheekbones and the lean figure, but his hair was chopped shorter, and something else was different about him. He looked healthier, she thought. Calmer, too. As she watched him set the pot on the table - so he had indeed been cooking, she thought, with uneasy surprise - she noted how careful his movements were. Fluid and graceful, but he held his neck quite stiffly.

A rumbling noise from the house's door startled her. Natasha quickly and quietly retreated, but was still in sight when the front door was yanked open. Thor quickly spotted her.

"Lady Natasha! I did not know you were coming to visit!"

Natasha cursed internally. Perhaps she had neglected her spying abilities a bit too much recently if she was unable to escape Thor now. She made sure not to look at the window, from which she could sense much less movement now, and thought of what to say.

Thor quickly caught up with her. "How are you?"

"I'm good, thanks. You?"

"Good, good." Thor smiled.

He did look good, Natasha noted. Better, at least. His smile seemed genuine, cracking through the mask he had been wearing in the years prior. It made her smile, too - she had not realised how much she had missed him. She made a mental note to come by more often in the future. Maybe her family was not completely lost after all.

"What are you doing now?", Thor asked.

"Just going home. Long day with Rhodes and T'Challa and Steve. But we're making progress. And you?"

She knew she had made a tactical mistake the moment she saw Thor's eyes light up.

"We are just about to have dinner, actually, you should come eat with us!" He clapped a big hand on her back which almost threw her off her balance. "Please, old friend, you'll enjoy it!"

Natasha had three believable excuses at the ready, but then she looked at Thor and considered. She wanted him to be happy. She wanted to make sure Loki was not a threat. And over the long haul, if she wanted to spend time with Thor, she probably would not get around this anyway.

"You know what, that does sound nice", she said.

Thor's face lit up again - apparently, he had not expected her to accept. "Wonderful!", he said, and jovially pulled her along.

In front of the porch, he hesitated.

"Lady Natasha, you know that my brother..."

"I know, Thor, don't worry." She considered. "Might want to give him a quick warning though", she said finally. Not for Loki's sake - in fact, she would have liked to see his unprepared reaction - but for Thor's. She did not want to provoke an argument between the brothers. Who knew what their relationship was like at the moment.

Seemed like she was about to find out, she thought.

Thor opened the door for her, showed her where to put her shoes, and promptly opened another door which presumably led into the kitchen. The lights in the hallway were much less bright than ordinary ones, and when she looked up, she saw that the reason for that was a circular lampshade out of a thick white fabric. Thor had left the kitchen door slightly ajar, and in the thin sliver of light, she saw a tall dark figure move around and suddenly stand still. Loki was speaking in an angry, hushed tone, making him difficult to hear, but Thor's booming voice projected into the hallway. She took off her shoes, and slowly walked towards the open door.

"Thor, you could have-"

"Don't worry, brother, Lady Natasha knows you are here, and-"

Loki said something she could not hear.

"Our side is your side too! She helped a lot when we first came here, she won't- Ah, Lady Natasha, there you are!"

The room was bright and warm, painted in a light yellow. Comfortable, Natasha thought. Unlike the people in the room, who looked decidedly uncomfortable. Loki was covertly observing her every move while pretending to stir whatever was in the pot in front of him. She examined his face. To a quick and superficial look, he looked quiet and concentrated, but as she observed the infinitesimal changes on his face, she saw a flurry of emotions pass over it. Anger at Thor. Slight worry, fear. He was on his guard. A blink, and she would have missed the slight raise of the inner corner of his left eyebrow before his face closed up again. Tears?, she thought. That seemed... out of character. On the other hand, who knew what Loki was like when he was not trying to subjugate a planet.

Her eyes flicked to the kitchen table, where a third person sat. This was why Thor had shown up so unexpectedly, she realised. She had not known that there was a third person here. He was tall, with dark skin and dreads, and wore a reddish, sleeveless top and brown leather pants. Clearly older than the other two Asgardians. He looked over at her. His eyes were golden.

Even Thor looked a bit uncomfortable with the situation, but he quickly managed to return to his usual self.

"Take a seat at the table, if you wish, Natasha, dinner should be almost ready. Right, Loki?"

Loki wordlessly nodded. If he had been anyone else, Natasha would have almost felt sorry for him; this evening was clearly not going the way he wanted it to.

"Want me to help with... setting the table, or-"

"That is very generous of you, Natasha, but you are our guest, please just sit!", said Thor, clapping a hand on her back again. Natasha acquiesced and sat down next to the stranger.

"It's Natasha", she said, moving to shake his hand.

"Heimdall", said the man. Puzzle pieces clicked into place. So this was Heimdall, Natasha thought, Asgard's... guard?

"One of Thor's Midgardian warrior friends, I assume?", said Heimdall, and they talked for a while. Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha watched Loki, whose face grew darker during their conversation, while he was adding some spices to the contents of the pot.

Only once Thor had sat down as well did he look up.

"Well then", he said, voice slightly scratchy at the beginning, "I hope you all are hungry."

Natasha could not resist. "What did you make?", she asked. She should not have. It was unprofessional, making your target feel less comfortable than they already were. Comfortable was good. Comfortable was talkative.

But after all, she was not working for anyone anymore.

Loki stiffened, but quickly caught himself. His gaze flicked to her for a moment. The first time he looked at her directly.

"Soup. A family recipe", he said curtly. She had expected a note of anger in his voice, but he sounded calm, with a hint of... worry? Hm, she thought. Strange.

The soup was actually quite good. It reminded Natasha of Borscht. Another memory from long ago.

During dinner, the conversation livened up a little, but Natasha could still not shake the feeling of just how surreal the situation was. It was like meeting your old school friend in a stripclub. Like eating the home-cooked soup of a genocidal alien who still struck her as having stepped straight out of 2012. Two things that did not belong together.

But Loki had not stepped straight out of 2012, that much was clear. She was right in that he looked slightly healthier, but now she could get a closer look. The shadows under his eyes were not as pronounced as during the invasion, but also not gone. Seemed like he had not been getting much sleep, either. He looked delicate, in a way, she realised.

Then there was the bruise around his neck. He wore a high collar, but once or twice she still saw a hint of something that must look pretty nasty when uncovered. Thor had only ever said that Loki died at the Titan's hands without elaborating, but this bruise gave her some ideas. Choking. Not a pleasant way to die.

As he ate, he carefully chewed the vegetables, not taking too much at once. When he looked out of the window or at Thor speaking, he seemed softer, quieter. Perhaps it was the hair. Beach waves instead of christmas tree. But there was also something about his eyes...

Thor had started the evening off by telling a long-winded story about a quest he and the "Warriors Three", whoever that was, once went on, and now that the initial tension had subsided a bit, he asked Natasha about her work.

"It's a lot, but we are making progress, I suppose", she said. "We are trying to make a list of everyone active in the hero business right now, build up a network, make sure that the next time someone comes from space to attack us, we are better prepared."

In the corner of her eye, she saw Loki stiffen for a moment.

"Well", Thor said, "as I have told you already, I am happy to help. And Heimdall and Loki as well, right?"

"Sure", said Heimdall.

Loki starred at Thor for a moment. Then his gaze flicked to her, he winced, although it was barely noticeable, and finally cleared his throat. "I suppose", he said.

"I'll note that down", Natasha said.

It was quiet.

"Well", said Thor, "that was a delicious meal, Loki!"

"It was quite good", said Natasha.

Loki looked startled. "Thank you", he said eventually, looking at Thor, and at her only quickly.

After stacking up their plates, they all stood up. Thor stretched, while Loki picked up the plates.

"Should I help with the dishes?", Natasha asked, not to anyone in particular.

"I'll just do that with magic", Loki quickly replied, before Thor could say anything.

Thor accompanied her outside. It was cold, but not unpleasantly so, and Natasha took a deep breath of fresh air.

"Thank you for eating with us tonight", said Thor. "And also for..." He looked at the ground abashedly. "I know you have no reason to bear any good will towards Loki, and -"

"Of course", said Natasha, "don't worry about it. You're my friend, it was nice seeing you again. Perhaps you can come to mine for dinner at some point?"

Thor nodded and smiled, and Natasha smiled back as she turned around to go.

In that moment, they heard the screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. I will try to update this as regularly as possible, but I unwisely decided to start this project during exam season (what better motivation to write than to think about all the other things you should be doing) and am writing the chapters as I go. Another disclaimer - English is not my native language, so please let me know if there are any grammar mistakes.
> 
> Blackfrost is one of my favourite ships for which there is unfortunately a lack of fics. Here is my contribution to fixing (or rather, fics-ing) that. I would really love to hear what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

Natasha drew her pepper spray and scanned the area. Thor reached out to call Mjolnir.

"Any idea what that was?", she asked.

"No", said Thor. "But it seems to come from over there." He pointed towards the centre of the village, where Natasha had localised the sound as well.

"I'll go first", Natasha said, and quickly walked onwards, hiding in the shade of houses when she could. She cursed as she thought of her gun lying on a chair at home.

As she got closer to the village square, she heard a number of voices, some hushed, some shrill in panic. Around her, windows lit up and doors opened, people coming to see what was going on. Abandoning her carefulness for the sake of speed, Natasha ran towards the square, where the voices seemed to be coming from.

A crowd was forming around one of the houses, a smaller one which stood in the shade of another. As she got closer, she could hear a flurry of hushed whispers. Worry, was what she heard in them. Fear, even. What would scare the Asgardians, Natasha wondered, dread building in her stomach.

She quickly wriggled herself through the crowd until she stood almost directly in front of the open doorway. It was dark inside, and she could not see anything. A young woman appeared in the doorway and stepped outside. She wore a light blue, the colour of the healers, as Natasha had learned. She quickly walked away from the crowd which assailed her with questions. Using the distraction to her advantage, Natasha stepped inside the house.

It took some time for her eyes to adapt to the darkness, and she looked around, trying to decipher the few things she was able to see. A table, a chair, a cupboard...

She turned around. The bed was behind her, on the same wall as the door. Natasha stepped closer. There was someone lying on the bed.

Eyes wide open, hands crossed over, stiff as a board. She stumbled back. A corpse.

Natasha had seen many corpses in her lifetime, and most of them had been her doing. The sight should not have shocked her.

But for whatever reason, the thought of a murder in New Asgard seemed entirely alien to her. The people here were fishers, bakers, healers, mothers. The snap had brought the warriors back as well, but this did not look like their work.

Natasha stepped closer again.

A slashing wound across the front of the neck had done the trick. Blood had run down the neck towards the chest, soaking the shirt. The man had stood, then, and whoever had attacked him had done so from behind before lowering him onto the bed.

Natasha's gaze fell on the man's face, and her stomach dropped. She had talked to him a few days ago. He was a guard, if she remembered correctly. Had been a guard. He was not too old, perhaps around 40 if he had been human.

The murderer must have been quite strong, Natasha deduced. More importantly, the guard must have trusted them, since he had turned his back on them.

With a last look around, Natasha slipped outside. Thor was there now, and so were Loki and Heimdall.

"What is going on?", asked Thor loudly, swinging his hammer in circles at his side, ready to fight.

"A murder", Natasha said. The crowd's whispers turned into distraught murmurs. Natasha lowered her voice. "One of the guards. Lives in that house over there."

Thor paled at her words. The arm that held Mjolnir hung limply by his side.

"What? How?"

"That is what we have to find out", said Natasha.

Thor walked past her, stepping into the house. Loki followed, while Heimdall stayed where he was.

"You don't want to go inside?"

Heimdall glanced at her. "I've seen enough corpses in my lifetime, as have you. I don't need to see another one." He gave her the hint of a smile.

Suddenly, Natasha remembered something else that Thor had once told them about Heimdall. All-seeing, they called him. A shudder went down her back. He must know everything about her. The thought of talking to him seemed much less pleasant now.

Thor and Loki returned.

Natasha heard something rumble overhead; as she looked up, the sky was filled with thick thunderclouds, and the soft breeze grazing her cheek turned sharper.

Thor's expression looked equally thunderous, while Loki's face had closed up. Even more closed up than usual, that was. He was hard to read. A twitch of the eyebrow told her a little bit more - not a lot of anger, mainly worry.

Thor stopped in the middle of the square. "One of us has been killed today. We will investigate this, and I will bring down the rage of the god of thunder on whoever is responsible for this."

With that, he turned his back and left.

To her surprise, it was Loki who spoke up now.

"The murderer was likely not a stranger, but someone the victim trusted to a certain degree." The crowd's murmurs got louder. So he had noticed it too, Natasha thought.

"This means that from now on, everyone should be careful about their company. Try not to be alone with people outside of your families. And ensure that your children know not to trust anyone but you."

His voice was calm, but still authoritative, and it seemed like people were listening to what he said.

"And if you have any concerns about someone you know, do not hesitate to speak to me, my brother, or Valkyrie."

For a short moment, he glanced at her before leaving.

The crowd slowly dispersed, people still talking about what had happened. But now, Natasha sensed a hint of distrust in the crowd. It was a small village. People knew each other. And now there was a mole.

Natasha spent the night restless, as she did many nights; tossing and turning, nightmares shaking her.

"Drakov's daughter, Sao Paulo, the hospital fire", said a voice in her head, a voice she had not heard in a long time.

She shuddered, tears streaming down her face.

The worst thing was that she did not remember.

She could recount every single one of her missions in detail, stating the objective and reporting all the relevant conversations that she had listened in on, the plans she had uncovered. She could remember the faces of every murderer and diplomat, CEO and mafia boss she had ever worked with, and give a threat assessment when asked.

But she could not remember the people she killed. She could not remember what they were like, what their faces had looked like, what they might have felt for her.

Drakov's daughter, her hands buried in Natasha's hair, gasping at her kisses. Smiling. That was the only thing Natasha remembered of her. Shortly after, she had slit her throat in front of Drakov. Her last moments had been spent begging and crying, and Natasha had not cared. Had not even thought about caring.

Then there was the hospital fire. Natasha pressed her head into the pillow. She did not remember. She did not even know how many there were.

"Can you? Can you wipe out that much red?"

She had thought she could. She had tried so hard, had saved lives whenever she could.

She was still trying. But her belief was gone. Because a saved life did not do anything - it just staid there, grateful, but largely unaffected, and continued on its way. Natasha had saved many people, but her ledger was still as gushing red as the day she started.

She cried for a while, silently sobbing into her pillow.

As she looked up, birds were chirping outside, and the sky was pink with a tinge of blue. Natasha could hear the faint sounds of the sea. Big waves crashing against the rocks outside, tiny waves crashing inside her cochlea. She wiped her tears off and sat up.

She went into the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee. While it was brewing, she changed into jeans and a hoodie. This time, she put her gun into her back pocket, hidden beneath the thick fabric of the hoodie.

After she had finished her coffee, she went outside. The grass was still dewy, and there was a hint of fog hanging in the air.

Natasha moved quickly and quietly. She still had that thought, the same thought that she had had when walking home the day before. Something about the situation did not sit right with her.

She had missed something. Something essential, something important.

Of course her mind had wandered to Loki first. She had managed to stay neutral on her visit to Thor's house, only observe what she saw. She did that with all her targets - shutting away her emotions and only seeing what was there, no more and no less.

So what had she seen?

She was not sure. But she knew that it had not been the same man who had called her a mewling quim and threatened to split Clint's skull.

This was not out of sympathy, or pity, or any form of sentiment. Even if there had been nothing else, the past night would have reminded her of what her feelings for Loki were, no matter how much she might repress them for the sake of objectivity.

Clint had forgiven Loki surprisingly quickly, after the invasion. Natasha had never understood why. Her mind being taken from her, twisted inside out and turned against her allies was among the worst things she could imagine.

Strange, a voice in her head said. Even though you do not even need a stone from space to turn against your allies. Or to let yourself be used for evil. Hydra. The Red Room. You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers-

Perhaps this was why she could not forgive him. Over the years, that voice in her head had started a to sound a bit too much like his. Cruel words, repeating themselves over and over again in her mind. Cruel but true.

She banished the thought off her mind. Wiped it clean, like she would before a mission. She put on a smile. Things were good right now. Her friends were safe, and there was no big threat to the world at large. She quickened her steps. Now she only had to deal with the small threat to hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Natasha angst for you...
> 
> Comments are very much appreciated :)


End file.
